


One Church Pew

by Faline (rubberbisquit)



Series: The Best of Us [7]
Category: Jericho (US 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7418962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberbisquit/pseuds/Faline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and I, maybe we won’t matter in the long run.  Maybe history will never remember our names.  But you’d have to be awfully stupid not to realize that at this stage, we’re it.  We’re the only ones in a position to save the world.  Both of us.  Together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Church Pew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShirleyAnn66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyAnn66/gifts).



> Holy shit long chapter is long. I wasn't kidding about these chapters getting longer. 
> 
> Things this story was supposed to contain: sappy public displays of UST, semi-drunk!Beck, and a ridiculously sweet first time. Like, achy teeth sweet first time.
> 
> That did not happen.

_Seven days earlier_

“No.”

 

Heavy silence and then, “But, this new plan.  I know it’ll work-“

 

“No.”  His voice dropped in pitch, embodying every ounce of leadership he’d developed through his career.

 

“Beck, you _need_ me out there.  I’m-“

 

“No.”  He was growing frustrated, not used to such blatant subordination.

 

“Dammit Beck.  I’m fine.  You need me with you and I need to go.  There’s no one else- “

 

He slammed a hand flat on his desk, knocking papers askew.  “No!”  The sharp thump and the almost-shout made Heather jump in her seat across from him.  Her eyes widened, mouth forming a delicate gasp.  She was startled.  _Good,_ he thought.  _She needs to understand._ The intensity of his gaze, his raw conviction, forced her to drop her eyes to her lap.  She worried the nailbed on her right thumb and Beck watched the movement.  The blood was long gone but they were both remembering bright red stains on her skin.

 

“Beck.  _Please_.  Listen to me.  I know I look like crap but I swear to you I’m fine.”  There was a pleading tone in her voice he hadn’t heard since she’d convinced him to defect from Cheyanne.  It would have been a lot more effective if she wasn’t still sporting a fading shiner on her right eye, a shallow cut on her hairline and a split lip.  Despite the damage she still looked beautiful to him.  Beautiful and fragile.

 

The bruises on her body, the stress she had to be carrying, negated any sway that tone could possibly have on his decision.

 

“You are not cleared to join missions at this time, Miss Lisinski.  No matter how important you think you are to their success.”  He hadn’t called her by her last name in a long time, not in private at any rate.  His heart twisted painfully at the wounded look she shot him.  He didn’t care, he couldn’t care, that he was being unnecessarily harsh with her.

 

What Heather was asking of him was impossible.  He couldn’t- he wouldn’t ever allow her to be placed in dangerous situations again.  She was too important to the end goal, total liberation from the A.S.A.  Her knowledge of the region and planning abilities had cemented Beck’s command within and outside of Jericho.  If she were to be captured again, and God forbid killed . . .

 

Beck needed Heather to be the voice of the people within the resistance.  He needed her diplomacy and her working knowledge.

 

He needed _her_.  To keep him grounded, to remind him of the humanity he still clung to.

 

_Beck needed his cornerstone._

He’d almost lost her nine agonizing days ago.  He had promised her it would never happen again and to keep that promise he’d have to keep her in Jericho.  Safe and watched.

 

She could sense she wasn’t getting anywhere with this argument.  She allowed her hair to fall into her face, obscuring him from her gaze.  He needed her to admit that he had a point.  Just like he needed to brush that hair back and promise her, once more, that he would do everything in his power to keep her safe, even if it meant his own mission would suffer.

 

Her silence stretched out for a long minute, almost two, before she nodded gently.  She still wasn’t looking at him.  Beck prepared himself for more of a fight but it never came.  Instead, she stood, eyes pinned on the window behind his head.  “I’ll do my best to bring Specialist Hamilton or Corporal Jones up to speed so they can take my place.”  His jaw nearly dropped at her statement.  “After tomorrow, of course.  Have a good day, Major.”  With that, Heather slunk from his office.  He watched her wind her way past her desk, past the counter in the entry, and into the sunlight.

 

His fingers couldn’t ease the tension at his temples.  He’d been expecting this argument to rival the day he’d thrown her in jail.  Pleading eyes and being called terrible names for not listening to her.  Beck let his head fall to hands, propped up on his desk, and he tried to rub away the frustration from his mind.

 

At least he didn’t have to watch her face shuffle through the bare emotions of capture and torture.  A soft knock on the door broke him free from the image of Heather from his mind.

 

“Major?”  Gray Anderson waited at the threshold and Beck waved him in.

 

“Mayor?  What can I do for you?”

 

Anderson didn’t take the seat Beck offered, simply taking two steps forward.  A quick discussion then.  “Have you made a decision about tomorrow?”

 

Tomorrow.  Eric Green’s wedding to Mary Bailey.  He was expected to attend; Eric had invited him personally for whatever reason.  Gray had even offered to procure him a suit, something Beck hadn’t owned in close to a decade.    As the leader of Jericho’s own army, he was more than obligated to show his support for the second most important civilian in the city.

 

Beck corrected himself.  Eric Green might be second in command of Jericho, but he was number three on the list of civilians Beck internally ranked as important.  Mayor Gray Anderson was second.

 

Heather Lisinski was, without a doubt, the most important civilian in the city for Beck.  Heather with her hopeful looks and her dedication to the cause.  To him.  Heather with the bruised body whom he had failed immensely.

 

That was the real reason he had dreaded the inevitable decision to attend Eric’s wedding.  He’d spent nine days watching her recovery and finally allowing her to return to the office.  Officially, she was required to take a leave of absence.  She’d ignored that mandate.  Beck had allowed it but couldn’t bring himself to interact with her any more than absolutely necessary.  He was having an almost impossible time looking at the wounds on her body and not seeing his own failure to protect a valuable asset.  A friend.  Someone he admired and trusted.  And-

 

He really didn’t want to go to the wedding.  Going meant seeing Heather.  The bruises sure to be bright and angry on her abdomen and thighs floated into his head.  He sighed.  He had to stop thinking about the rescue.  Had to stop obsessing.  Heather was safe; she was here.  So what if they were in a church together for a half hour.

 

“I have.  I am happy to attend.  I will also take you up on your offer of a suit.”  He waved a hand at his front, indicating his standard-issue ACUs.  “I don’t have a whole lot of dress uniforms left in my wardrobe.  None, actually.”

 

Gray actually cracked a grin.  “Excellent.  I believe Gail Green had a few she was willing to lend.”

 

“I’ll swing by when I’m done here in a few hours and let Eric know I’ll be there.”

 

Somehow, those few hours were distilled down into a quick 30-minute assessment of paperwork, none of which he could accomplish without Heather.  If anyone in his office was surprised to see him leave at 16:00 they had the good graces not to mention it.

 

Beck had never been inside the Green residence but he knew where it was.  It was his job to know.  Even If he wasn’t sure about the exact location, the dozen forms of transportation around the property would have given it away.  The Greens were clearly entertaining.  He spotted bicycles, a horse, and a few cars.  Including the beat-up pick-up Heather drove, the one she’d named Charlotte. 

 

Beck groaned to himself and ran a hand over his face before getting out of the Humvee.  His regular driver was absent with a cold and he gave Jones a wave to stay put for now.  The front door was open to let out the sounds of merry making while the screen door was shut to keep out the bugs.  Every step he took towards the laughter felt heavier than the last.  He almost turned back on the bottom step, telling himself that he didn’t really need to go to the wedding.  He didn’t need a suit, or to sit uncomfortably while he tried to ignore Heather and everything she represented for him.  He could just . . . take tomorrow off.

 

The creak of the screen door startled him and his eyes whipped up to find Eric, waiting for him.  “Come on in, Major.  Gray called about a half hour ago and I think Mom found something that will fit.”

 

No going back now.  Beck steeled himself and entered the home.

 

It was cozy, like all these Midwestern houses were, decorated in neutral tones of brown and grays.  People were cluttering the living room: Bill, Jimmy, Stanley, and Cooper.  Each had a glass in their hands and were making ridiculous toasts to Eric and Mary.  In the doorway, Mary watched in amusement.  As Beck closed the door behind him, Eric motioned past his fiancée.  “Mom’s in the kitchen with Emily and Heather.” 

 

Beck gave a curt nod, both to Eric and the group assembled.  The men gave him a tipsy cheer.  Mary also had a smile for him.  It was his troops and the secure trade lines that had kept her bar in business and allowed her to entertain the notion of a wedding. 

 

“Major.  We’re so glad you’ll be joining us tomorrow.  We owe you a lot.”  Her smile was warm and without guile.  A complete change from his first days in Jericho.

 

“It’s my honor, Miss Bailey.  I’m pleased to assist with Jericho’s recovery process.”  The response was rote and memorized; not just from Jericho but every town he’d ever helped rebuild.  He glanced at the door to the kitchen, ready to get the whole confrontation with Heather over and done with.  He didn’t want to fight but he couldn’t give in to her demands.  She was more important to him here, safe in Jericho, than out on the road where anything could happen.

 

Mary almost read her thoughts.  There was an underlying seriousness in her eye when she leaned in, whispering, “She’s still banged up and upset, but Beck?  She’s not a wilting flower.  She can take care of herself.”

 

Beck frowned at the cryptic message.  Mary moved to the side, allowing him to pass her.  Once he’d entered the dining room, the noise behind him quieted enough that he could hear two women arguing in harsh whispers in the kitchen.  Gail was visible through the door, stirring something at the stove, while Emily and Heather remained out of sight.  He stopped, listening.

 

“-shortsighted man, more concerned with outcomes then effectiveness. Treating me like a green private, no good with themselves.  I swear- “

 

“He’s worried.  About you, Heather.  That’s all.  He knows you can handle yourself, but- “

 

“He’s not worried about me.  He’s worried about the troops and following protocol.  If he was worried about me, he’d have checked-in on me when I was at the med center.”

 

“Heather, he did.  I saw him there with my own eyes, more than once.”  


Silence and then a huff.  “Well, I never saw him and in the three days I’ve been back at work he hasn’t mentioned it.”  Petulant wasn’t the right word for her tone.  Beck thought it more disgruntled and irritated.

 

“He cares about you, Heather.  You have to-“

 

“Girls!”  Gail Green’s voice cut Emily and Heather off.  Beck’s eyes jerked up from the worn floorboards.  Gail had turned around.  She wasn’t looking at him, but he could tell when he had been spotted.  Shuffling steps brought him into the room.  The sight greeting him made his heart ache.  He should just turn and walk away.  Emily and Heather were clearly talking about him, huddled close together on the other side of the island.  As he stepped fully into the room, she stepped away from Emily and almost ran from the kitchen.  From him.

 

There was a worrying finality as the back door slammed shut behind her.  Beck winced at his sudden shame; he felt like an ass but was unable to separate the woman who had just fled from his presence and the broken body he’d carried two miles to safety. 

 

_She contorted in pain in front of him as he tried to pick the locks binding her feet.  There was blood everywhere; Beck knew head wounds bled like crazy but this was too much._

 

Charlotte roared to life in the drive and took off with a peal of burning rubber.  Beck straightened his spine.  She could hate him now, that was fine.  So long as she was safe.

 

Gail cleared her throat and offered a smile.  “Major!  Welcome, come on in.  We were just putting the finishing touches on the cake for tomorrow, weren’t we?”  She shot Emily a cautioning look.  The blond responded immediately, grin huge.

 

“Yeah!  Chocolate, Mary’s favorite.”  A cake waited for its frosting in front of her while dozens of other baked goods scattered the counters.

 

 

Gail wiped the flour from her hands.  “Can we get you something to drink, Major?  Water?  Some juice?  I bet the boys have a bit of whisky you could sample.” 

 

She was already reaching for a glass when he brought up a hand to stop her.  “No thank you, Mrs. Green.  I have to- have to get back to the camp as soon as I’m done here.”

 

Gail nodded.  “Well, that’s okay too.  Let me take you upstairs.  I think one of Johnston’s old suits should work.”  She eyed him up and down.  “You look about his size when he was your age.”  Beck wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.  He fell back on his training, going to parade rest out of respect and nodding at the blond.  “Miss Sullivan.”  Emily gave him a quizzical look but returned the nod all the same.

 

“I apologize for the mess, Major.  I’ve been handing out suits like candy this week.”  Gail’s voice was easy and friendly as she led him upstairs and into a clearly unused bedroom.  Dark fabric was scattered across the bed; every shade he could think of.  “What’s your size?” 

 

Beck swallowed and croaked, “34 pant, 40 jacket.”  She picked through a few of the outfits, mentally cataloging locations.  Her fingers ghosted over the most formal suit of all before landing on another to pull at the tag.  He waited as she crossed to the closet, pulled back a few hangers and finally hummed with satisfaction.  “It’s old, but Johnston only used it once.”

 

The suit was in excellent condition, simple and black.  Beck watched Gail inspect it, lost for a moment in her own memories of her husband, before she held it out to him.  “We’re a little short on dress shirts, but I think Jake probably has a short sleeved white one that will work perfectly.”  She handed him the suit and disappeared into the hallway.  When she returned the held a folded shirt and a light green tie.  “Sadly, the tie collection is much more limited.  This is the best I’ve got.”

 

He took the items gratefully.  “Thank you, Mrs. Green.  I’m sure it will be fine.”

 

Gail tutted.  “Please, Major, call me Gail.  And it’s no problem.  Now, I’m going to give you a few minutes and then I want to see how everything fits.  I’m hoping I don’t have to take them in, but- “ she eyed him up.  “You’re a little shorter than any of my boys.”

 

He ducked his head, already overwhelmed at her generosity.  “No, it’s all right.  I can take care of it once I get back to camp.”

 

“Nonsense.”  He was surprised when she patted his arm kindly, tutting and leaving him to change.

 

It had been a long while since he’d worn a formal suit but he hadn’t forgotten the restriction of a tie or the awkwardly light weight of the fabric.  Even as he pulled the knot tight at his throat he felt naked without his body armor.  It had been 43 months since he’d worn civilian clothes.  He felt each of those days with an aching hole in his chest as he stared at the unfamiliar form in the mirror.

 

A tentative knock sounded at the door and he called out to Gail, to let he know he was dressed.  “Oh, that’s perfect.  Look at you.”

 

His head whipped around, finding Emily at the door.  He stepped back, on his guard.  “Um, thank you.”

 

She grinned and approached, hands raised.  Beck’s spine went rigid as unfamiliar fingers straightened and adjusted.  The suit was a good fit, the pants just a smidge too long but serviceable.  Her machinations, though, were making him uncomfortable.  He’d gotten to know the blond through Heather but they’d never been alone in a room before.  “The green is a good color on you Major.”

 

He blushed at the compliment, not quite sure what to do with himself as Emily made one final inspection.  “You’re going to break a lot of hearts in that suit.”  The color on his cheeks darkened.  He _knew_ Emily wasn’t flirting with him.  It felt like it though.

 

She came to rest before him, her eyes twinkling in the darkening sunlight.  Her lips pursed as her hands rose. Fingertips easily loosened the tie and freed the top button.  Satisfied with her work, Emily laughed.  “Okay.  Maybe not break, but you’ll _definitely_ turn one head.”  That jovial nature drained from her face quickly and Beck almost wanted to back away at the sudden shift.  Emily stepped closer, nose to nose.  “And if you break _that_ heart, I swear I’ll end you.”

 

Beck blinked down at her dumbly.

 

She gave him a cold stare. 

 

He understood her presence then, this unofficial inspection.  His hands raised defensively and he finally did take a step back.  “Miss Sullivan, I don’t know what you think, but Miss Lisinski and I- “

 

“-will be perfect for each other.”  Beck sputter in outrage, completely unprepared for the threatening matchmaking.  She jabbed a finger into his chest, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to drive her point home.  “You will.  But if you mess this up, I swear to you I’ll make you miserable.”

 

Beck attempted a rebuttal, a defense, but Emily was having none of it.  She held up a hand to his protests and gave him a last, blinding smile.  The aggression was gone from her demeanor, back to her cheerful, calculating self once more.  Jake was a hell of a man to try and tangle with a woman so fierce.  His head was swimming long after she’d left the room, caught on the suggestion that he and Heather- that they might-

 

He had entertained the notion, more frequently since his defection.  Especially since he’d received the confirmations of death for his wife and baby girl.  But it was impossible.  He and Heather . . . were complicated.  He kept failing her and she kept believing in him.  No matter how much he’d come to respect and appreciate Heather Lisinski, he wasn’t good for her.  She deserved someone better, someone closer to her own age and especially someone that wasn’t in the middle of fighting a guerrilla war. 

 

He glanced at himself in the mirror again and ran a hand through his hair.  The suit looked good, fit okay, and would get him through one awkward ceremony.  He was back in his uniform in minutes, the dress clothes delicately draped over one arm.  The party was still going full swing in the living room when he descended the stairs.  He resisted the urge to dash across the entry hall and out the front door because that would be rude.  The Greens _were_ being exceptionally generous to him and he needed to thank them.

 

Stanley seemed to be in the middle of a ridiculous story about him and Eric as children, something to do with football.  Every few moments Jimmy or Cooper would interject their version of the story.  Beck glanced at the assembled group.  They’d been through so much in the last seven months; death, famine, war.  So much, and yet, here they were laughing and celebrating small memories.

 

It gave him hope for the future.  When the rebellion succeeded he would be guaranteeing moments like this for the generations to come and it reminded him that his purpose was the only thing that could matter.  And by any means necessary, he had to win this war.  For towns like Jericho across the continent and for families like this, who had already lost so much.

 

 

By any means necessary, he thought.  Heather had a point when she’d argued that no one else could help him like she could.  Everyone was grinning and a few even had tears in their eyes from laughing so much.  Stanley finished with a flourish, spilling a bit of the drink in his glass as he saluted Eric’s exceptional football prowess years earlier.

 

It was Mary that finally caught sight of him.  “Major!  We were just about to start on dinner.  You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.”  A chorus of voices chimed in, asking him to stay, but Beck shook his head.

 

 “I have to brief my men tonight about the proceedings tomorrow.  I need them to be prepared for trouble if- “

 

Eric cut him off, “Trouble?  You think something might happen?”

 

“There’s always the threat, especially with New Bern.”  Beck offered a shrug.

 

The group stilled, thinking about their aggressive neighbors.  Finally, Eric stood and offered his hand.  Beck shook it, grateful for the dismissal.  “We’ll see you tomorrow, Major.”  He nodded and turned to go, not expecting a hand on his arm to stop him at the screen door.

 

He glanced back at Gail.  Her fingers rested over the fabric of her husband’s suit and her warm smile reminded him of his own mother’s in a sharp and unwelcome way.  “If you need anything else for tomorrow, please don’t hesitate to ask.”  Beck wasn’t sure to make of the offer, but he thanked her again all the same before walking into the sunny afternoon.

 

Back at camp, Beck had hours to burn before his evening meeting with his Cos.  He ducked through the back paths to his tent, not willing to go through the formality of address with his troops.  Inside his one, personal haven, the canvas was dark and musty.  The papers on his desk were perfect copies of the ones he had at town hall, outlining the upcoming mission to Missouri and southeast Kansas.  He may as well go over personnel files again; he’d built a team of four and was still undecided about the final two.  Heather had mentioned Hamilton and Jones as good liaison replacements and he had to admit they were both fine suggestions on paper.  Hamilton knew more about the radio systems in camp than anyone he’d ever met and was an amicable woman.  Jones was a great driver and could sweet talk a rebel out of their gun in exchange for an ice cream cone.

 

But they couldn’t read people like Heather, couldn’t diagnose a mechanical problem by sound alone.  They couldn’t give him a small smile and fill his heart with peace and reassurance.

 

He groaned, throwing down the planning documents in frustration.  He had a very serious problem.  And that problem’s name was Heather Lisinski.

 

The clock on his desk read 1800.  His meeting wasn’t for another two hours.  He stared at the clock as it clicked over one minute, two minutes.  He was wasting time and it was infuriating.  He needed to focus, needed to finalize the route.  His fingers sorted through the papers, looking for the latest report on road crew activity.  After a thorough search, he remembered he’d neglected to order a duplicate set sent to the camp.  He’d have to go back to the Sherriff’s Office.

 

The motor pool was quiet when he arrived, most of the men assembled at the mess tent.  He found a mechanic with his head stuck under the hood of a vehicle and did his best not to startle the man.  “Soldier, are you available to take me into Jericho?”

 

The wide eyes of Private Mullen peered around the hood at him.  She stood at attention quickly when she realized who’d interrupted her work.  “Sir, yes sir.”  He was pleased to note her voice was even and respectful.  She was one of a handful of locals who had joined up after Beck’s defection.

 

Mullen deposited him in front of his office in town with no muss and fuss.  “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”  Her responding, “Yes, sir!” was cheerful and he nodded to himself.  Yes, his army might be engaged in subterfuge but morale was excellent.

 

The front door was open when he tested it; someone was working late.  Yet, when he entered the darkened office he noted the overheads were off.  Standard procedure demanded they remain on while the office was in use.  Instead of protocol, two desk lamps switched on: the one in his office and the one at Heather’s desk.  Beck hand was immediately at his side, fingers popping the strap holding his sidearm in place. 

 

He was really, really sick of being on guard at all times.

 

He swept the main room quickly, verifying it was empty.  His office also appeared to be unoccupied through the windows.  He checked there, too, not finding another soul.  Either the last man out had been negligent when they’d left or Beck had missed something-

 

The sound of glass breaking behind him had Beck whirling from his office door, gun raised with the safety off.  Heather stood behind him, a gun also in her hands.  Beck immediately relaxed, holstering his weapon.

 

“Jesus, Heather, I almost shot you!”  She frowned and shove her gun down the back of her pants.  Her face was livid as she bent to collect the pieces of a coffee mug at her feet.  Beck was dumbfounded for the second time that day.  “And where the hell did you get a gun?”

 

Vivid blue eyes glared up at him from her crouched form.  “I’ve had it for a week.  Since I got released from the med center.”  Beck was still stunned and motionless.  Heather and firearms were two concepts in his mind that were miles apart, separated by a very large chasm.  “Figured it’d be a good idea; I won’t let anyone get the drop on me again.”  She was angry but her words sounded strangely defeated.

 

It was that tone that brought him back to himself.  He bent quickly, picking up the last few pieces.  Heather didn’t thank him as their tasked was finished, merely held out her palms for his pieces of the mug.

 

Beck pursed his lips but handed them over anyway.  “You know you’re supposed to turn the overheads on when you’re working.”  She shot him a glare and said nothing, retreating back into the break room.  Beck stood, at a loss.  What else could he say?  She’d almost . . . – he had almost . . . - 

 

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, cursing himself.  What the fuck had he gotten them into? 

 

“I was working on the information packet for whomever you chose as your liaison assistant.”  He hadn’t heard her return, a towel in her hands.  She shook her head when he took a step closer, trying to help her clean up the spilled tea.  “I knew I wasn’t going to sleep much tonight so if I could- if it got done tonight I could be done with it and focus on other things.”  She was frowning when she stood one final time.  Her eyes were stuck on the still-damp floor in front of her.  “Things I _am_ cleared for.”

 

Beck balked, finally fitting some pieces in place about her anger.  And her seeming surrender to his will.  But fuck; it wasn’t like she was the first person he’d banned from field missions.  Soldiers were assigned restricted duty all the time for injuries. 

 

She was gone again before he could actually voice his protests.

 

Heather _was_ special, he reminded himself.  She was the first person he’d taken off a mission because he couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt again.

 

This was all wrong.  All of it.  She thought she was being treated like one of his men.  She didn’t understand, didn’t realize he was terrified of losing _her_.

 

He found her in the break room, watching the microwave as another mug slowly spun.  “Heather-“

 

To her credit, she didn’t tense at his voice.  Quite the opposite, she seemed to shrink.  God, he was such a fucking ass.

 

“I still have a lot of work to do tonight, Major Beck.”  She stared straight ahead.  The microwave time ticked down from 1:46. Beck’s heart clenched.

 

He approached with caution.  It was cool enough in the room that he could feel the heat from her body as he leaned up against the table next to her.  Their shoulders almost brushed but he held himself apart even as his head screamed at him to close the distance.  He wanted to offer some sort of physical comfort for the discomfort he’d caused.  It would be entirely inappropriate and probably completely unwelcome.  He sighed and crossed him arms instead.  If he could make her understand, then they could work past this crack between them.  “The most common complaint my superiors have about me is that I care too much.”  He let the words sink in, ignored the disgruntled glance she threw out of the corner of her eye.

 

1:33.

 

“I know; it probably doesn’t seem like a problem I could possibly have.”  He laughed ruefully at the irony.  “For ten years my job has been the suppression of hostiles, use of deadly force authorized.  And I have had a much higher success rate than many of my colleagues.  Colleagues that never hesitated to put a bullet through a problem rather than find a peaceful solution.” 

 

Her jaw clenched, fingers tightening where they were braced on the table’s edge.  She’d been on the receiving end of his tactics more than once.

 

1:12.

 

“That’s what my file would have you believe, that having the highest completion rate of missions in an active war zone would necessitate a complete lack of compassion for those who have faced me down.”  He shifted a little, crossing his legs and settling in for some heart-bearing. 

 

“But, that’s not success, not for me.  Every town that resorted to violence against me and my troops was a failure.  Because the mission isn’t successful if we lose someone; because I’ve failed the second shots are fired.”  He took a deep breath and glanced at her.  She still looked furious.  “As soon as someone is hurt, or injured, or captured- “ She blinked, rapidly, lips thinning into a restrained line.  “As soon as that happens I’ve failed the mission.”

 

 

:47.

 

 “I’ve failed myself.  My men.  The people I need to protect and help.  I’ve failed them all.”

 

:40.

 

She wasn’t looking at him and Beck was trying to bear his heart for her.  He shifted, a hand reaching down to cover her own, to get him to acknowledge what he saying.  Her fingers were cold under his touch but she didn’t move away.  “Heather, I failed _you._   The second you left Jericho without the proper protection detail you deserved, I failed you.  And you paid the price for it.”

 

That got a reaction, finally.  She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes and face blank.  Beck let out a breath at the sight. 

 

:29.

 

“I _cannot_ let you get hurt again.  You are one of the key players in this resistance and without you, I don’t believe we can win against Cheyanne.”

 

She blinked once, twice, tears falling now and screwed her face into disbelief.  She was going to interrupt him before he was done and he couldn’t let her, not when he was finally saying what he needed to.  He gripped her fingers tighter, keeping her quiet.

 

:10.

 

“More than that, I cannot let you get hurt again because _I cannot do this without you_.”

 

:03.

 

“I won’t make it through this war without- “

 

The microwave beeped three times sharply.  It broke whatever moment Beck had been building.  Heather shifted away from him, pressing the door open for her mug.  She held it tight in front of her, hands warmed by the vessel.  Beck growled and reached for her arm.  He didn’t force her to turn to him, to look at him, merely to keep listening.  Her back was scant inches from his chest and he could smell her shampoo.  It was a light, floral scent he’d long ago come to associate with sweet smiles and infectious joy.

 

“Heather- “

 

“Shut up.”  Her words were quiet, fierce.

 

He clenched his jaw, willing her to listen to what he was trying to tell her.  “Heath- “

 

“No.”  She was emphatic, her head shaking quickly.  He dropped his hand as she settled her mug in front of her and leaned into the counter for support.

 

The crazy notion to pull her back to him, to wrap her up and let her lean into his body caught at the edge of his mind.

 

“You don’t get to do this.  You don’t get to- “  She growled, struggling to voice her frustration.  “You don’t get to dismiss me like one of your men in the afternoon, treat me like an asset instead of a friend and then say these things in the evening.  I can’t . . . I can’t handle it.”  Her head raised, breathing at an even and steady pace.  Calming herself down.  “You can’t be my friend and then abandon me when I need you the most and then claim that you care too much.  Because that’s not what a person does when they care about someone.”

 

She was crying again.  He could hear the watery edges of her words and he needed to do something, offer something.  He cupped her upper arms gently.

 

“You _saved_ me Beck.  You brought me back from certain death; _you saved me and then you abandoned me._ ”

 

He couldn’t stop himself; he crossed his arms around her and pulled her against his chest.  She didn’t protest, just let herself fall back.  Touching her like this, when she was mostly-unharmed and coherent, sent a wave of pleasure through his body despite the seriousness of the conversation.  His face dipped, cheek pressed against the top of her head.  “I am so sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

 

“Well, you did.  You showed me that I could always count on you and then you ignored me.  Now you’re treating me like a soldier, completely disregarding the fact that without me, you might not come back from Missouri.  This war won’t be won without you, either.  We have to keep each other safe.”

 

“I don’t matter, not in the long run.”  He kept his voice low, pitched deep in desperation and hoping that she’d finally understand his decision.  “I have plans in place if something should happen to me.  My troops know what to do; they’re good men and they’ll see this through no matter what happens to me.  But you; you’re _not_ replaceable.”

 

“You’re a damn fool, Edward Beck.”  Her words were quiet but emphatic, thoroughly disgusted with him.  He pulled his head up, craning to see her face.  She looked up at him, still a little teary-eyed but determined.  “You want to believe, so desperately, that everyone’s life matters.  That you have to save every damn person on the planet.  Except for yourself.”

 

He was startled enough at her vehemence that he loosened his grip immediately when she turned around in front of him.  “ _You_ are the strength behind this army _because_ you care.  If you can’t see that then we’ve lost already.”  Her hands rose, resting on his chest.  Beck found the weight to be grounding, solid.  He gripped her waist in return.

 

“Heather-“

 

“You and I, maybe we won’t matter in the long run.  Maybe history will never remember our names.  But you’d have to be awfully stupid not to realize that at this stage, we’re it.  We’re the only ones in a position to save the world.  Both of us.  Together.”

 

And there it was: the unwavering dedication of Heather Lisinski.  Able to reinforce the most broken mental foundation. 

 

He opened his mouth to speak, to disagree with her devotion.  It felt misplaced; he was unworthy of this show of support after he’d failed so spectacularly with her already.  Not once, but a whole handful of times.  She had no reason to keep standing behind him, propping him up.  But here she was, heart laid bare in front of him and ready to go to war with him.

 

Heather watched him mentally struggle with her words until she let out a huff.  “I have to go on this trip with you because if you go alone there’s no guarantee that I will ever be able to do this again.”  Her left hand slid up, cupping his cheek.  That gentle touch drew him down to her level where she could press a short, sweet kiss to his lips.  Beck’s fingers flexed in surprise, tightening against her body.  She mewled at him, a small gasp that he felt more than heard.

 

Heather was kissing him.

 

Kissing him like her very life depended on that touch.

 

And then she pulled back far too quickly, freeing their arms to step away from him.

 

Heather had kissed him.  And he’d been too dumbstruck to kiss her back.

 

He’d wanted to kiss her for months.  Even before he knew his family was dead.  Before he had any idea that she would ever, could ever, return the budding affection he’d been cultivating for her.  She stared at him with wide, wild eyes.  Her lips were berry pink and wet.

 

At his sides, Beck’s hands clenched and released as he struggled not to reach for her.

 

“I-  I have to go.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”  She dashed from the room, mug of tea forgotten.  Her work forgotten.

 

Beck staring at the door she’d fled out of probably not forgotten, but definitely left behind.

 

His fingers finally raised, brushing over his sensitive lips and they hovered as a grin broke out across his face.

 

Heather had kissed him.

 

He was in the office the next day by 08:00, just like always.  Heather’s desk was conspicuously empty an hour later, after she should have arrived and he called his Office Manager in to see him.

 

“Clarkson, where’s Miss Lisinski?”  The diminutive man adjusted his stance under Beck’s harsh words.

 

“She contacted the front desk a bit ago and said she’d be taking the day off.  I believe she mentioned something about preparing for the ceremony today.”

 

Beck narrowed his eyes but dismissed the man.  He couldn’t fault Heather for helping her friends.  He couldn’t even fault her for taking a day off, something he’d been offering her for months.  It just would have been nice if she’d told _him_.

 

IN some ways, Heather’s absence was a blessing.  He’d committed to finishing his work for the day by 1500 and without the brunette head visible through his office windows he’d been able to at least focus.  The suit hanging from his coat rack had only distracted him a few times.

 

Clarkson knocked gently right as his alarm went off.  “Sir, it’s time.” 

 

Beck gave the man a nod and signed off on the last report of the day.  He showered quickly in the office, not bothering to waste gas on a trip back to the camp.  It was just as well, the locker rooms in town were actually stocked with a good selection of hygiene products.  It felt strange to splash a moderate amount of aftershave on his clean cheeks, too normal and completely disconnected from his current lived reality.  Beck stared hard at his reflection once more.

 

A man he had believed to be long gone was staring back at him.

 

He turned from the sad eyes and finished getting dressed. 

 

The church was half full when Beck approached.  He’d waited to arrive, hoping that the guest would mostly be seated and he could slip in the back unnoticed, but the crowd didn’t seem to be in any hurry to take their seats.

 

Gray caught sight of him first, a rare and pleased smile on his face as he greeted Beck.  “So glad to see you, Major.”

 

Beck gave him a nod and scanned the group.  With a jolt, he realized he knew everyone assembled.  Not just by faces but by name.  He knew them.  As he followed Gray to their seats, the welcoming smiles and greetings he received were surprising.  This town knew him too, and had brought him into the fold.  His chest filled with unexpected warmth and then he caught sight of her.

 

Heather.

 

She was talking animatedly to a couple with a young child.  The little girl was gripping Heather’s hand tightly, swinging their linked arms with joy.  She was breath taking, her light green dress tight, baring her soft shoulders that’d he’d felt through clothes just the night before.  Her shapely legs stretched a mile long, feet delicately encased in a pair of heels.  She was a vision, exotic and familiar all at once.  Beck felt his steps falter.

 

“Are you alright, Major?”  Gray’s concern was amused, having caught exactly what had caused Beck to misstep.

 

Beck wanted to glare and snap.  Instead, he tore his eyes from Heather and nodded sharply.  “Yes.  These shoes are . . . unfamiliar.”  The excuse sounded lame to both of them.  Gray coughed back a laugh.  Beck glared anyway.

 

A swell of music from the organ had people scrambling to find a spot in one of the pews.  There was a steady familiarity in the processional and it soothed something in Beck.  Even as his heart hammered at the thought of Heather, looking so beautiful and delicate just across the aisle, he was able to finally take a deep breath.  Emily and Mimi joined Eric, Stanley, and Jimmy at the front of the church before the tune changed.  The congregation stood.

 

Beck turned with everyone else but was caught in a half turn, even as Mary made her entrance.  Heather’s grin was so wide, so free, that he couldn’t connect the radiant creature across from him with the one he’d dragged to freedom.  The evening light filtering through the stained glass turned her hair to crimson and blue, giving her halo.  The make-up she wore covered the bruising, could almost make him forget that she’d almost died.

 

Something broke free inside Beck.  He’d failed her and she’d been injured but she was still alive and still smiling. 

 

She was indomitable.

 

As Mary passed them by, everyone turning with her, Beck caught her eye.

 

She gave him a tentative once-over, grin frozen and uncertain.

 

He smiled for the first time that day.  Heather was a force of nature and he was damn lucky to be caught in her whirlwind.

 

The moment broke as the Reverend motioned for the crowd to take their seats but Beck couldn’t stop glancing at her every few seconds.  She kept her eyes straight forward, body still.  He thought he was being sneaky but half way through the vows, she glanced at him and tilted her head towards the couple at the front.  He stifled a chuckle at her silent admonition for not paying attention and kept his gaze forward.

 

After the vows and the declarations and the I do’s, after the recessional and the bulk of the celebration had left the church, Beck remained.  He pulled out the knee rest and stayed, hands folded and eyes closed.  It had been a damned long time since he prayed and he wasn’t then, just collecting his thoughts.

 

The sharp click of heels in the pew snapped his eyes opened but he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t startle at the interruption.  He knew exactly who was joining him.  He watched those well-defined legs, disappearing into light green, approach slowly.  Heather sat down in the pew beside him, too far to touch but close.  Close enough.  Beck let out a sigh.

 

“You look gorgeous.”  His words tasted weak, lacking the real vocabulary to describe her appearance. 

 

She actually snorted, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable.  “It’s amazing what one can find in the back of a closet.”  Beck kept his eyes front; she was far too tempting, sitting primly in the sanctuary.  “Gail let me have it.”  Fingers picked at the hem of the dress, revealing knees and the barest hint of thigh, the tail of a vivid purple bruise.  Beck gulped down air.  “It was the bridesmaid dress she wore when her brother got married.”

 

She shifted closer, leaning forward in the pew _right next him_.  Beck’s knuckles were turning white.  He could smell her flowery perfume, surrounding him and muddling his head.  “I am, somehow, not at all surprised that she’d kept the matching tie Mayor Green had worn.”  His head dropped reflexively, finally noticing the tie he wore was the same soft green as Heather’s dress.

 

Gail and Emily must have been in on this subterfuge together, strange and confusing matchmakers.  Even though he and Heather hadn’t come to the wedding together, if would have looked like it.  This would certainly explain Emily’s glee when she’d walked down the aisle and spotted the two of them.  He’d been marked as Heather’s and she as his.

 

Beck let his hands relax and straightened.  His joints creaked as he sat back in the pew.  Heather was still leaning forward, elbows braced on her knees.  Her soft hair fell into her face and bared the back of her neck.

 

He frowned at a set of bruises that looked conspicuously like finger prints at her nape.  Every time he thought he could get past the damage he’d involuntarily caused, he found a new wound.  She stiffened for just a moment as he brushed the bruising gently.  “Crap, I missed a spot, didn’t I?”

 

“Do they hurt?”

 

She nodded.  “Everything hurts, but it is what it is.  They’ll be gone soon enough.”  Heather finally turned and looked up at him through the fall of her hair.  “Can you cover them for me?”

 

“I don’t . . . What?“

 

She rummaged through her purse and produced a small bottle of make-up.  “It’s easy, I’ll talk you through it.”  He patiently allowed her to pour a small dab of the liquid into his hand and turned her back to him.  Her hair was pulled back over a shoulder and Beck swallowed the stone in his throat.  The bruises were accusations of his failure but there was a lot of beautiful, unmarred skin that felt more like a gift.

 

He followed her instructions, starting with small dabs.  She jumped slightly when the cool liquid touched her skin and he murmured an apology.  He was mesmerized by the texture of her, of _Heather_ , as he slowly rubbed away the purple.  His fingers kept moving as he finished.  The bruises weren’t gone by any means but they were much less noticeable.  He brushed over one shoulder and then the other.

 

Heather shivered, stifling a small moan.  His stomach clenched at the pleased little sound.  He increased the pressure, gently rubbing at the tense muscles of her upper back.  “Mmm, that feels amazing.”  Her words spurned him on and he kneaded into her flesh.  She was so warm.  So alive.  He was leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the knob at the top of her spine before he could stop himself.  One hand drifted down her arm, desperate to pull her against him fully.  “Beck . . . wait . . . “

 

Heather’s words jerked him out of his revelry.  He leaned back, his hands flying from her skin.  Fuck.

 

He’d clearly misunderstood her signals and her interest.

 

Heather gave a soft, disappointed noise as he moved.  She turned fully to catch one of the hands banished to his lap so he wouldn’t touch her again, wouldn’t give in to the temptation of her skin.  Gently, she lifted it up and away from his pants.  He looked down at their entwined grasp.  His palms were much lighter than his natural skin tone, still covered in her make-up.  “Don’t touch your suit.  The concealer will stain . . . “

 

“I’m going to go . . . wash up.  Excuse me.”  He fled, finding sanctuary in the small bathroom at the back of the church.  He cursed himself, muttering angry Spanish at his reflection, as the make-up gave way under his scrubbing.  He was stupid, so stupid.  He’d clearly misunderstood that kiss last night.  She’d been in a tough place emotionally and he’d been comforting her. 

 

One moment he’d been staring at himself angrily in the mirror and then down at his hands until the water ran clear.  The next time he looked up Heather hovered behind him.  He’d been so caught up in his misery that he hadn’t heard her come in.  She looked kind, forgiving.  Like always.  He shut up the faucet with a hard twist and grabbed at the towel to dry his hands.

 

“Thank you, Beck.”

 

Those simple words, spoken with her unwavering devotion and soft heart, broke him.  He whirled, grabbing desperately at her.  Eager hands tracked the span of her waist and greedy lips crashed into her mouth.  He crushed their bodies together, his head screaming at him _finally.  FINALLY._

_Heather._

Heather let out a muffled harrumph at his sudden movement and then her own hands were on his body, grasping at his clipped hair.  She responded to his onslaught beautifully, opening underneath him and arching against him.

 

His embarrassment melted away at her movements but he pulled back all the same.  With labored breaths he stared down at her.  She kept her gaze steady as she returned the look, lust pooling in her eyes.  She was breathing just as harshly.  What the fuck did this all mean?  Why was she denying him one moment and then reeling him back in the next?

 

“I swear, before God in the back of this church, that I will make your life very uncomfortable if you don’t keep kissing me, Edward Beck.  And if you run again, I will end you.”  Heather’s voice was filled with fierce conviction and a warning in her eyes.

 

Who was he to deny the lady?

 

The door to the toilet stall creaked as he pressed her back then lifted, pinning her to the metal.  Her arms shot up, one holding onto the frame and the other wrapping tightly around his neck.  She was light in his grip and he set about kissing her senseless.  He poured his heart into the contact, telling her with his body what he couldn’t with words.

 

She was everything to him and he would be lost without him.

 

One slender leg circled his hip, urging him even closer.  Beck got a good grip under her ass.  He gripped tight through the slick material of her dress.  It wasn’t enough to anchor her, the fabric uncooperative.  “What the fuck is this thing made of?”  His words brought a giggle to her lips, still mashed against his. 

 

“The 80’s were an interesting time for fashion.”

 

He huffed, “Oh, I remember.”  There was a momentary shuffle as he settled her weight with his hip and bypassed her skirt altogether.  When his palm settled against the bare skin at the back of her thigh he had to take a deep, shaky breath.  She was soft and yielding beneath his touch.  He could feel the heat of her core, a tempting goal just inches from his fingertips.  Heather’s head hit the back of the stall and he watched her face as he ground his growing erection against her. 

 

She winced.  He stopped immediately, remembering her bruises.  She glared down at him through narrowed eyes, growling, “If you stop, so help me God- “

 

Beck had to chuckle, his lips finding the pulse point at the junction of her neck and shoulder.  He teased the skin there mercilessly with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue.  She mewled again, using her weight to rock down into him.  He was impossibly hard now, straining against the borrowed pants.

 

Fuck.  The very borrowed pants that could absolutely not be returned stained because he’d come like a school boy.  “Heather, wait.”  She was still disgruntled at the interruption.  “The suit.  I don’t want to ruin it.”  Realization dawned in her eyes and she laughed a little.  The arm she’d wrapped around his neck joined the other, her weight lifting.  Her gaze was challenging.  “Take your pants off.”

 

Beck groaned at her request.  His fingers were frantic, working clumsily against his belt buckle.  She continued to grind into his stomach, not content with waiting.  He freed himself and gave his dick a few experimental tugs.  Jesus, he was about ready to pop already.

 

When he could fully support her weight again, Beck brought he down.  The heat of her center was scalding against his flesh.  “Fuck, Heather.  I’m- “

 

“Breathe.  Let me- “  Her fingers scrambled to undo the jacket buttons and pull his shirt away from their bodies.  Her skirt followed.  His eyes dropped instantly, mesmerized by the image of his cock pressed tight against her very small black panties.  He let out a groan, drawing it out as she deftly pushed the last piece of fabric between them aside.  Her moans joined his as he shifted their hips.  She was so hot and so wet; it sent shocks of pleasure through his entire body.

 

Beck looked up, catching her eye.  She was biting her lip, trying to keep quiet.  Because they were in a church bathroom and this was him and this was Heather.  And he was one good thrust away from fucking her silly.  “Are you sure?”

 

She nodded, rotating her hips as best she could, positioning her hips high and her opening right above the head of his dick.  He threw back his head and took a deep breath.  He needed to reign it in, he wasn’t even inside her yet and he was-

 

Her weight shifted as one delicate hand cupped his cheek.  He couldn’t tighten his grip quick enough to keep her from sliding down his body.  Their eyes both went wide as he pressed against her core and then she was sinking down on his cock, agonizingly slow.  Heather.  His whole world was focused on her and their joined body.

 

 _Heather_.

 

_I love you._

She started to move.  Beck’s hands followed her movements, lifting and dropping, jerking with abandon.  Heather’s mouth dropped open, a quiet litany falling from her lips.  His name, over and over.  The whisper went straight to his balls.  He felt a pressure building at the base of his cock; he wouldn’t last much longer.  He thrust hard, leaning up to draw her into a bruising kiss.  She tightened around him and Beck knew she was close.  His pace sped up, frantic and desperate for her.  “Yes, Heather, that’s it.  Come for me.”

 

He captured most of her keening wail but couldn’t stop his own roar as her walls clamped around him.  His eyes squeezed shut as he emptied inside her welcoming heat.  He jerked once, twice, then stilled.  His forehead rested gently against her throat, their skin slick with sweat.

 

Her gentle pat on his shoulder brought him back to the present and their current situation.  He withdrew carefully, holding her dress away from her legs.  He’d made a mess and so had she.  Her bruises were fully visible now, the skin now slick with their mixed fluid and somehow the purple didn’t look so horrible.  She followed his gaze and then gave him a beautiful laugh.  “I’m going to- “ she jerked her head to the stall behind her and Beck nodded, moving to clean himself up as well. 

 

They were both reassembled and presentable within five minutes.  He even checked the make-up at the back of her neck, pleased that it hadn’t been smudged with their activities.  Heather gave herself a once-over in the mirror and then caught his eye through the glass.

 

He saw no regret in her face, only open devotion and his heart clenched.  He didn’t deserve that kind of dedication; he didn’t deserve _her_ but she wanted him.  For some weird, messed up reason she needed him.  Maybe as much as he needed her. 

 

Heather misread the thoughtful expression on his face, frowning softly.  Her eyes fell to the sink in front of her.  “I, um.  I know this was highly improper and if you want,” her voice was stuttering and unsure.  “If you want to forget this happened, then I-“

 

Beck turned her gently away from the mirror so he could press a sweet kiss to her lip.  “If I ever forget this, then you should get me to a medic because I’m about to die.  Even then, though, I don’t think I could ever, ever forget this.”  She relaxed with relief.  “I mean; we could still be struck down at any moment.”  His eyes raised meaningfully to the ceiling, reminding her that they _were_ in a church.

 

“We did, you know, make it through without divine intervention. I think we’ll be ok.”  She quirked her lips up at the corner, teasing.

 

He laughed then, a full-bodied one that filled her face with joy and made him grin harder.  He pressed their foreheads together, eyes sparkling.  He _was_ in love with Heather.  Maybe she was in love with him.  He didn’t know for sure but he was really fucking happy to have the opportunity to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> And now, the sad part of the story where there's lots of pining and no sex. Booo no sex.


End file.
